


The Lion's Den

by a_splash_of_stucky



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Blowjobs, Clubbing, Cunnilingus, Dancing, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fingering, Fivesome, Fivesome - F/F/M/M/M, Incubus Steve Rogers, Multi, Oral Sex, Penetrative Sex, Protected Sex, Seduction, Succubus Natasha Romanov, The Author Regrets Everything, Vaginal Sex, Vampire Bucky Barnes, Warlock Sam Wilson, magical powers, minor blood, neck biting, pussy eating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 16:57:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15223640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_splash_of_stucky/pseuds/a_splash_of_stucky
Summary: You’re on a night out when you meet them; a redhead and a blonde, two of the most beautiful people you’ve ever seen. They have a secret that they’re hiding, one which you discover…when you wake up in their home.





	The Lion's Den

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a writing challenge on tumblr, using the prompt: “I haven’t tried this on a human yet, but it should be very similar.”
> 
> This is complete and utter filth. THE SMUT GOT OUT OF CONTROL. I started writing and my brain was literally like “MORE SMUT. WE NEED MORE SMUT.” So…this happened. An 8k one-shot ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Gratuitous liberties have been taken with mythological lore. I kinda did a minimal amount of research and a whole lot of my own world-building, but that’s what fiction’s for, right?

The club is filled to the brim with people, sweaty bodies packed together on the dancefloor. Neon lights paint the walls in vibrant splashes of blue and green. You’re dancing with Wanda and a bunch of your other friends, your body swaying in time with the music.

“I’m gonna go get a drink!” you shout, pressing your mouth close to Wanda’s ear so that she can hear you over the thumping bass. She gives you a thumbs-up and a grin.

You wave goodbye before turning around, pushing your way through the throng of people until you reach the walkway that borders the dancefloor. You clamber up the steps, slightly unsteady in your heels, then stride briskly around the room, towards the bar. Your clutch bag is swinging against your hip; you adjust the chain strap so that it sits more securely on your shoulder.

As you walk, you cast your eyes over the dancefloor, marvelling at the mess of writhing bodies. There’s something so…hypnotic about their movements. It’s as if the entire club has come alive, with all these people moving as one connected unit. They’re all slaves to the music.

A flash of red in the corner of your eye catches your attention. Your gaze is inexplicably drawn to a couple near the edge of the dancefloor, dancing not too far from the bar.

It’s a man and a woman, you note. The woman has a shock of flaming red hair, the colour brighter than the sky at sunset. Her partner is a tall, broad-shouldered man, with golden hair that glows ethereally under the strobing lights. You realise that someone is dancing between them – a tiny scrap of a girl. She is pale-skinned, with raven black hair that cascades over her shoulders like a waterfall. At this angle, her petite, willowy figure is mostly blocked from your view by the man’s body.

Something tells you that the redhead and the blonde are together. There’s something about their frequent, casual touches and meaningful shared glances that hint at years of familiarity. You watch the couple for long minutes, transfixed by the way they dance. There’s an inhuman grace, a precise, calculated elegance to every movement. They’re easily the most beautiful people in the room and yet, no one seems to have noticed them besides you.

Thankfully, the bar is not that busy at this moment. You signal the bartender and order your drink of choice. He hands you the glass and you nurse your drink slowly, your eyes still tracking the couple.

The girl that was dancing between them has now disappeared. The redhead sashays closer, looping her arms over her partner’s neck, her hips moving to the beat in a mesmerising side-to-side sway. No matter how hard you try, you can’t seem to tear your eyes away from them; it’s like they’ve trapped you in a trance. You should probably be heading back to Wanda and the rest of your friends, but your feet feel like they’re glued to the floor.

Your next breath gets stuck in your throat when the man looks up and catches you staring. Your heart stops. He is unnaturally still, head cocked to the side, eyes narrowing as he studies you. You know that you should turn away, should avert your gaze, but right now that is  _physically_ impossible. Something compels you to return his stare – the same force that is keeping your feet pinned to the floor.

The man bends down, bringing his lips close to his companion’s ear. You watch them move as he speaks. She turns in his arms, looking over her shoulder, her gaze flicking around the room until her eyes settle on you. Her crimson red lips pull into a feline grin. Her expression makes you simultaneously want to cower in fear and throw yourself at her feet.

They move across the room as one, the crowd parting for them seamlessly. Though the dancefloor is packed, they cross it with no trouble. It’s like there’s a bubble around them that keeps people out of their way; dancing bodies ripple around them like harmless waves.

Something in the back of your head is telling you that this is dangerous, that you should run and hide. A larger part of you is curious; out of all the people in this room, you seem to be the only one to notice their strangeness. More importantly, out of all the people in this room, they seem to have devoted their focus to  _you_.

Though you watched them cross the room, you’re somehow still shocked when they appear in front of you. They’re even more magnificent up close, you realise. The woman’s shoulder-length hair frames her face elegantly, highlighting her pointed chin. There’s not a strand out of place, though you know that logically, after all that dancing and because of the suffocating heat in this room, she should be a sweaty, panting mess. Her scarlet hair perfectly complements the alabaster of her complexion and juxtaposes the emerald green of her eyes. She wears a sleeveless black sequinned dress that stops just above the knee – much less extravagant than what many other girls in the club are wearing, yet she looks all the more stunning for it.

Her friend is gorgeous in his own right. His tawny hair is styled away from his face in a neat coif, every strand perfectly positioned. He has prominent cheekbones and a jawline strong enough to cut steel. There’s an unfathomable wisdom behind his bright blue eyes. He looks to be made completely of muscles, with huge biceps and a wide chest that starkly contrast his slim waist. Like his partner, his clothes are simple; a white t-shirt and dark jeans, yet he manages to captivate you with his beauty nonetheless.

Once you drag your eyes back up to his face, you realise that he’s been watching you checking him out. There’s an amused smirk on his lips. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

“Hi there, darling,” he says, in a voice as smooth as velvet.

“H-hi,” you stammer.

“Would you like to dance with us?” he asks, holding out a hand, palm up in invitation.

You nod your assent, even though a part of your mind is screaming no, telling you to back away, that this is too dangerous.

Your body and mind are now two separate, warring entities. Neither is in control of the other. Of its own volition, your hand sets down your empty glass, before reaching out to grasp the man’s outstretched hand. His skin is unnervingly smooth and warm to the touch. Something brushes against your other arm; you turn around and see that the woman is holding your wrist in a gentle grip. That devilish smile is still playing on her lips, equal parts inviting and terrifying. Your heart is thumping against your ribcage like a manic bird and your pulse is roaring in your ears, drowning out the loud music. Your palms are slick with sweat, yet neither person seems to care.

The couple guides you onto the dancefloor.

The next moments pass by in a blur. You’re away of hands touching your skin, of fingers stroking through your hair, of lips pressing against your cheeks and neck. You’re in a dream-like haze. Your mind is foggy, like you’ve taken one too many sleeping tablets. Time bleeds and warps; minutes become weeks, hours become seconds. Your awareness shrinks down to nothing but your own body and the tingling sensations flickering through it. The worries that you’d had have been suppressed, overpowered by an inexplicable sense of pleasure coursing through your veins. Your skin is buzzing with energy, every nerve ending alight. You’re not sure what exactly is going on, but you don’t have it within yourself to care.

Reality comes back into focus in drips and drabs.

The colours dancing behind your eyelids slowly disappear. The sensual music fades away, only to be replaced by the quiet murmur of voices. You’re confused and disoriented, but despite your grogginess, you do your best to assess the situation.

You’re no longer in the club, that much is clear — the booming bass no longer threatens to burst your eardrums, and the stench of smoke, sweat and alcohol no longer suffocates your lungs. You’re on a — bed? Something soft, at least. There are pillows propping up your neck and your body is enveloped in soft cushions. Someone has taken off your shoes and draped a fuzzy blanket over your legs.

You’re reluctant to open your eyes, but as the world comes into focus, you know that it’s what you need to do. Carefully, you crack open one eye, hoping to find out more about your surroundings. You’re lying on your right side on a sofa or lounge chair of some sort. All you see in front of you is a wooden floor and a coffee table. You must be in someone’s living room. You dare not move. Instead, you strain your ears, hoping to learn more about your surroundings that way.

There are voices somewhere off to your left.

“Steve, you  _know_ this isn’t how we do things,” someone hisses angrily.

“I know, I know,” someone — Steve? — replies dejectedly, like he’s frustrated with himself. “It’s just—we haven’t fed in  _weeks_. M’sorry, I didn’t realise how strong we were laying it on.”

“I knew you two shouldn’t have gone hunting together,” a different voice grumbles. It’s a man’s voice, deep and…wise-sounding, if a voice could ever be described that way.

And, wait —  _hunting?_

“I had it all under control, until  _Rogers_  over here set his eyes on her,” says a woman — the redhead you saw, perhaps?

Someone snorts.

“ _Tell_ me you can’t sense her life force then, Natasha,” Steve growls. “Even unconscious, can’t you tell? She’s so…unlike others we’ve seen.”

Unlike others? What on earth can that mean? And — are they talking about you? They must be, surely.

You fight to keep your breathing even; you can’t let them know that you’re awake. So far, you’ve identified four separate voices, which must mean that there are at least four people in this room with you. You don’t know how many other people there are, nor do you know what they plan to do to you. You’ve got to figure out a way to escape.

“How’s that potion comin’ along, Wilson?” a man asks. It’s the first voice you heard, the one who’d been mad at Steve.

“Nearly done,” another person — presumably Wilson — replies. Wilson must be the wise-sounding voice, then. “Just gotta pour it in here.”

“You’re sure this’ll work?” Steve asks.

Wilson makes a considering noise. “ **I haven’t tried this on a human yet, but it should be very similar**.”

“What d’you mean it should be similar?” Steve asks, sounding slightly panicked.

“I mean, I was more focused on the fact that you  _haven’t tried it on a human_ , but yeah, good question Steve,” the first voice says dryly.

“Fuck off, Bucky,” Steve mutters.

Wilson sighs exasperatedly. “Everything in this potion is fit for human consumption. Therefore, the potion should be fit for human consumption.”

“I’m…not so sure I buy that logic, Sam,” says the woman’s voice. You hear the thump of multiple footsteps, getting louder as they walk towards you.  _Fuck_ , you need to do something now, before they drug you up and do who-knows-what to you.

You stifle a gasp when you feel the couch cushions dip. Someone is perching on the edge, right beside your thighs. A warm hand rests gently on your shoulder and you resist the urge to whimper in fear.

“She’s waking up, I think,” the woman murmurs.

“I’m gonna need one of you to hold up her head,” Wilson says.

“I’ll do it,” says Steve.

It’s now or never.

As gentle fingers cradle your neck, you curl your hands into fists and lash out with your arms and legs. You feel your knee collide with something solid, just as your elbow slams into a wall of unforgiving muscle. You twist off the couch, landing in a crouch on the floor.

All of a sudden, a wave of calm washes over you. It’s as if someone has snuffed out your flaming rage with ice-cold water. Soft hands grasp your upper arms, guiding you back onto the couch. Someone drapes the blanket back over your shoulders. The calmness gradually recedes, leaving you feeling anxious, but less agitated than before.

Four people stand before you. They are some distance away, as if wary of spooking you again. The redhead and the blonde from earlier — Steve, you remind yourself — are right in front of you. To the redhead’s right is a dark-skinned man with close-cropped hair. He’s holding what looks like a golden chalice in one hand. On Steve’s right is a tall man with chestnut hair that falls past his shoulders in loose waves. His skin is as pale as snow, but your eyes are immediately drawn to his left arm, which seems to be made of metal. He catches you staring and tucks his metal hand into the pocket of his sweats.

“Hi,” Steve says, holding both his hands out in front of him, palms facing outwards in a sign of peace. “Please…we’re not gonna hurt you.”

“Where am I?” you ask hoarsely.

“At our place in downtown,” the redhead replies. “You’re probably wondering what happened, who we are, all that — if you’ll let us sit down, we’ll answer your questions.”

“I…okay,” you say hesitantly.

“Would you like some water?” asks the dark-skinned man.

“Um…yes please,” you say timidly. He responds with a courteous nod, walking off to the kitchen that is connected to the living room. You see him set the golden chalice onto the counter, fish a glass out of the dishwasher and fill it with water from the tap. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch as the other three drag over some chairs, arranging them in a loose semi-circle around the coffee table. The dark-skinned man hands you the glass of water, then goes to take a seat. You tuck your feet underneath you as everyone gets settled.

“So,” Steve says, as you take a sip. “Introductions, I guess. I’m Steve, this is Natasha,” he says, gesturing to the redhead beside him.

“The name’s James, but you can call me Bucky,” says the man with the long hair.

“Sam Wilson, ma’am, pleasure to meet you,” says the dark-skinned man.

“Uh…I’m Y/N,” you tell them. “I—um. What happened?”

Steve grimaces, looking to his companions for guidance. No one looks willing to help him, so Steve squares his shoulders and meets your eyes. “Uh…before we answer that…how…much do you know about the Underworld?”

You blink in surprise; you didn’t expect the conversation to take this particular turn. “The…Underworld? You mean, like…vampires and witches and all that? I mean…I know some stuff?”

“You’ve heard about it?” Sam asks, sounding surprised.

You shrug, running your fingertip over the rim of your glass. “My grandma used to tell me that I had fae blood in me. That — like, neither of my parents were faeries, but my mother…well, my grandma thinks she was tricked into drinking fae blood when she was pregnant with me.”

You shake your head and sigh quietly. “My grandma believed all the stories, so she used to tell me a lot of them.”

Bucky’s head is tilted to the side. “That…explains quite a bit. You don’t smell completely human.”

You swallow anxiously. That’s not the kind of sentence you hear in everyday conversation.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but—what  _are_ you, exactly?” you ask, your gaze flicking over the entire group.

“We’re a mish-mash of things,” Bucky replies, leaning back in his chair. “I’m a vampire, Sam over there’s a warlock, and these two are incubi. Well, Nat’s a succubus, which is basically the female version of an incubus, but they’re basically the same.”

Natasha clicks her tongue indignantly. “I am  _not_ basically the same as this one,” she mutters, jerking her head towards Steve.

“Well…she  _is_ kinda right,” Steve admits, lifting one shoulder in a shrug.

“So…you’re all…what? Friends?” you ask, “Like…creatures of the Underworld are notorious for not getting along, aren’t they?”

“That’s true,” Sam concedes, tipping his head in agreement. “We’re just…a special case.”

“We’re partners,” Natasha tells you. The way she says ‘partners’ makes you inclined to think that she uses the term in the loosest sense.

Your brows knit together in confusion. “Partners as in…partners in crime, or like, work partners, or…oh. D’you mean  _romantic_ partners?”

“All of the above,” Steve replies, the corner of his mouth turning up in a smirk. Meaningful glances are shared between them.

“Oh,” you squeak, at a loss for words. Unsure of what else to say, you take another sip of water instead.

“Sorry we scared you, earlier, with the—when we we’re gonna wake you up.” Sam says, breaking the silence. He looks genuinely apologetic. “We really didn’t mean to.”

“And sorry I had to use my magic on you,” Natasha adds. “I didn’t want you to panic and hurt yourself, so I thought it was best.”

Huh. Okay, so that’s why you felt so calm all of a sudden. You don’t know whether you should be more freaked out or grateful for her actions. This night is getting stranger and stranger.

You lick your lips. “About that, actually…um, what happened to me? Like, in the club, I mean.”

“How much did you overhear?” Bucky asks. “Just now, when the four of us were talking, I mean.”

A hot flush of embarrassment flashes over your neck and chest. “I—um. How do you know—,”

“The pace of your heart changed,” Bucky interrupts, answering your question before you can ask it. “I could tell you were awake.”

“Oh,” you murmur, nodding absentmindedly, as if that were the most obvious thing in the world. “Well, I heard someone scolding Steve, and then there was something about hunting together and making potions.”

“Right, yes, the hunting,” Steve says, shifting in his seat. “That’s a good place to start, I s’pose. It’s…d’you know how incubi feed?”

“Through sex, right?” you reply. It clicks, then, why they targeted you at the club. “Oh—were you gonna…uh—me?”

“Yes,” Steve answers. “Uh, to both, that is. Incubi and succubi feed off sexual energy, similar to how vampires sustain themselves through blood. I felt your life force and,” he trails off with a shrug. “It felt good. I wanted some of it.”

“So…what? You put me in a trance, or something?”

Steve winces. “Not intentionally. You need to understand something, here. We—the four of us are partners because we’re…outcasts, I guess. The creatures of the Underworld are notorious for preying on unsuspecting humans, using every power and enhancement they have to their advantage. We prefer to take the harder route and do things the old-fashioned way.”

“What Steve’s saying is that when we seduce people, we tend to seduce people in the more conventional sense of the word,” Natasha says, “Flirting, I guess you could call it. It’s much more satisfying that way.”

“You…I heard you say that you hadn’t hunted in a while,” you tell them.

Natasha nods. “The four of us…have been away, lately. Busy dealing with…”

“Underworld business,” Bucky interjects. From their shifty looks and hesitant answers, you can tell that this is a topic that they’re not comfortable discussing in front of you.

“Steve and Natasha — and Bucky, actually — haven’t really gotten the chance to feed in a while,” Sam explains. “This was our first night back, so I sent them off to get some food.”

“Couldn’t you—,” you bite your tongue to stop yourself, realising that your question is probably too invasive. Bucky has a knowing gleam in his eyes; perhaps he can tell what it is by the expression on your face.

“Couldn’t Steve and Nat feed on Sam and I?” he guesses. You bite your lip and nod your head.

Sam laughs, but not in an unkind manner. “They could — and they have, that’s how they’ve survived this long without a proper meal. But — them feeding on me drains a lot of my energy. And ‘sides, every creature’s life-force is different. There’s something about humans that sates their hunger for longer. It’s the same for vampires and human blood, actually.”

You hum in understanding, nodding your head slowly. “That makes sense,” you murmur. You turn to Steve.

“You said you didn’t mean to put me in a trance, but… _is_  that what happened?”

He nods. “Yes, it’s one of the powers that incubi and succubi have, to be able to put their victims into a trance so that they remember nothing of the encounter. I didn’t realise my magic was that strong, and I guess, combined with Nat, it’s no wonder you went under so fast.”

“You passed out on us, so we carried you here,” Nat tells you.

“Uh-huh,” you mumble, as you pull the blanket tighter around your shoulders. A thought crosses your mind.

“My grandma told me that creatures of the Underworld can get punished for revealing themselves to humans,” you say, “So…are you actually allowed to tell me any of this?”

They hesitate. Bucky clears his throat to speak.

“Not technically,” he replies slowly.

“There are…loopholes in the legislation that we’re exploiting,” Natasha adds.

Sam rolls his eyes. “The fact that you have fae blood in you is giving us a work-around,” he explains.

“Oh,” you say quietly. “Well, that’s…good, I guess.”

You gnaw on your bottom lip, hesitant to ask your next question, for fear of angering them, or something. They’ve been nothing but nice to you so far, but who knows? One wrong word and everything could descend into chaos.

“Is something wrong?” Steve asks gently, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Huh? Oh, no…I was just…um. Wondering what happens now.”

He blinks. “Well, whatever you wanted, I guess. We could take you back to your place.”

“Really?” you ask, breathing an internal sigh of relief. “Yeah, that’d be great— _shit,_ where’s my purse, I need to call my fr—,”

“Right here,” Sam says, reaching behind him and snagging the strap of your clutch bag, before tossing it over to you. You thank him as you set your glass down on the coffee table, before opening up your clutch and pulling out your phone. When you flip it open, you see that you’ve got several missed calls and texts from Wanda. You shoot her a quick message.

**Y/N:** _Hey!! Omg, sooooo sry for disappearing, but I promise im ok. Will b home soon xx_

“Steve, Bucky, you wanna take her back?” you hear Sam ask, “I gotta clean up my stuff.”

“Yeah, sure,” Bucky replies, “Lemme just find the car keys.”

Your phone vibrates, signalling a new message.

**WM:** _Y/N!!!!! I WAS SO WORRIED WTF??_

**Y/N:** _SORRY!!!!_

**WM:** _Where did u go?_

You bite your lip, unsure of how to answer her question.

**Y/N:** _met some people, kinda…..went home w them??_

**WM:** _??????_

**WM:** _r they hot?_

**WM:** _HOLD UP. TEHM???? AS IN MORE THAN 1???_

**WM:** _WAIT OMG DID U GET LAID????_

**Y/N:** _NO_

**WM:** _then y tf did u go home w them?_

**Y/N:** _it’s…..complicated? will explain when I get back_

**WM:** _babes if they r hot i want u to get fucked_

**Y/N:** _WANDA_

**WM:** _do u wanna get fucked by them?_

**Y/N:** _SHUT UP_

**WM:** _Y/N_

**WM:** _DOOOOO ITTTTT_

**WM:** _GO GET EM_

You groan internally as you gnaw on your bottom lip.

Here’s the thing.

You  _do_ want to have sex with them.

Maybe you’re crazy, or maybe this is the lingering effect of Steve’s magic talking, but a part of you wants to know what it’s like to have sex with a magical being. You’ve heard that the experience is unlike anything else on earth. And fuck, you haven’t gotten laid in nearly two years – this’d be one hell of a way to break your dry spell. They all seem nice enough and…maybe you’d be doing them a favour too?

**Y/N:** _….. I hate u so much_

**WM:** _ik. U can thank me later ;)_

**Y/N:** _BYEEEEE_

**Y/N:** _will text u when im otw home_

**WM:** _kk, stay safe, ily_

“Y/N?” Bucky calls.

“Huh?” you mumble, startled. You pull your gaze away from your phone and look up to see Bucky standing by the front entrance, keys in hand, a navy coat thrown over his clothes. Beside him, Steve is shoving his feet into a pair of boots.

“You ready to go?” Bucky asks gently, jerking his head towards the door.

“Um, about that, actually,” you say slowly, slipping your phone back into your clutch and pushing it to the side. “I…was thinking…that maybe I didn’t have to? Go, that is. I could stay. Like, if you wanted me to, of course,” you add hastily.

Steve freezes. Bucky cocks his head to the side. Behind you, you hear the murmur of Sam and Nat’s voices stop.

You know that by all accounts, you shouldn’t be doing this. You are the proverbial lamb in the lion’s den. Here, you are defenceless and vulnerable; you have no hope taking on one, let alone  _all four_ of them. For all intents and purposes, you’ve been kidnapped. Yeah, maybe you shouldn’t be trusting them, maybe this is the most insane idea you’ve ever had, but…something in your gut is telling you to stay.

Their surfaces may look intimidating, but there’s a softness behind that tough exterior, a kindness and genuine care that permeated your conversation with them. You’ve been watching them interact with each other. They operate like a single organism, a well-oiled machine, finishing each other’s thoughts.

It’s clear that they all love each other, and they’re not afraid show this. They express their affection for one another in simple ways, like in how Bucky’s hand continuously traces Steve’s thigh, how Steve absentmindedly plays with Nat’s hair, how Sam’s chair has inched closer and closer to Nat’s throughout the conversation. These people are so unlike the stories that you grew up with and for whatever reason,  _that,_ more than anything else, makes you want to stay.

“Y/N? What’re you…suggesting?” Steve asks.

You lick your chapped lips. “I’m saying that…you still need to feed, right?”

“Yes,” he says slowly.

“Then…let me stay,” you say softly. “You can…I…I really don’t mind.”

Steve swallows, kicks off his boots and takes a step closer to you. “Y/N, are y’sure about this? ‘Cause you really don’t have to, we’ve caused you so much trouble already, we couldn’t—”

“No,” you say resolutely. “I’m sure, Steve. I wanna stay, I—I really do.”

Steve nods slowly, sliding his hands into his pockets. “’Kay, then, I guess the next question is…who d’you wanna stay with?”

You’re aware of Sam and Natasha rounding the couch to stand in front of you, curiosity written on their features. You hadn’t thought about Steve’s question when you launched yourself into this plan, but – go big or go home, right?”

“All of you,” you say softly, shyly. You duck your head down, staring at your knees, too embarrassed to look them in the eye. “If…you’re all okay with that, then…I am too.”

“ _All_ of us, Y/N?” Sam asks, shocked. “You’d…Steve and Natasha need to feed, but so does Bucky, y’know?”

You lift up your head. Bucky’s staring at you with an unreadable expression on his face. “Will it hurt?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “No. It’s quite pleasurable, actually,” he says, smiling suggestively.

“And Sam? Would you need to feed on me somehow?”

“No, I wouldn’t, but—Y/N, are you  _sure_  you can handle this?” he asks again, clearly still worried.

“Her life force is strong, Sam,” Nat says patiently, “She can let all three of us feed off her and  _still_ have energy left. I’ve—I’ve not seen anything like this for a while.”

Natasha turns to you, a seductive grin on her lips. “Y/N, if you really want this, then I’ll happily sleep with you.”

“I’m down for it,” Bucky says. He’s already taken off his coat and put it back into the closet by the door.

Steve nods slowly. “If you’re sure it’s what you want, Y/N, then yes. I’m in.”

Sam sighs, throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation. “Then I’m in too.  _Someone_ needs to keep y’all in check.”

A shiver of excitement runs down your spine. This is really happening. You’re about to sleep with four creatures from the Underworld and most probably have the best sex of your life.

Holy shit.

This is really happening.

Holy. Shit.

Someone laughs. “Relax, Y/N, we’ll take care’a ya,” Bucky drawls.

Oh. You must’ve said that out loud, then.

Steve is the first to make a move. He walks slowly towards you, before dropping to his knees in front of the couch. This close, you can make out the finer details of his face, like his ridiculously long eyelashes and the perfect arch of his cupid’s bow.

“I’m gonna kiss you,” he says quietly, “Is that okay?”

You nod fervently, not trusting yourself to speak.

A warm hand curls around the back of your neck, guiding you forward. Your eyes slide shut as soft, plump lips meet yours. Goosebumps erupt over your skin as you exhale a quiet sigh. Steve is gentle, yet demanding, his tongue pressing insistently against the seam of your lips until you part them for him. He curls his larger body over yours, dominating your senses entirely.

“Bring her to the bedroom, Stevie!” Sam calls. You hear the sounds of footsteps and soft laughter as the other three leave the living room.

As your fingers thread through Steve’s soft blonde hair, Steve winds his arms around your waist, pulling you tight against his body. His muscles are unforgiving and undeniably strong; you can’t resist the urge to map out his shoulders with one of your hands. You can feel his muscles bunching and flexing as he stands up, taking you with him. You gasp in surprise, the sound swallowed by the mouth locked onto yours. Steve helps you wrap your legs around his waist, then carries you through the house like it’s the easiest thing in the world. He makes you feel as light as a feather. His show of strength makes you dizzy with arousal.

Your world turns head over heels when, without warning, Steve lets go of you. You fall onto a soft mattress, landing with a muffled  _oof._

In the few seconds that you have to study your surroundings, you notice a few things. The bed is unnaturally large, probably custom-made to fit all four of them. The bedroom is tastefully decorated, with grey walls and a wooden floor. The lights built into the ceiling cast a soft orange glow over everything, and the sheets beneath you are silky smooth.

Steve is standing above you at the foot of the bed, his gaze dark and lustful as it rakes over your body. Natasha is closest to you, sitting on your left; Sam and Bucky are on your right. Before you can open your mouth to speak, Nat’s fingers are curling into your hair, pulling your head back. She presses her lips to yours in a hot, insistent kiss. You whimper with desire.

You jerk in surprise when another pair of lips starts mouthing at your neck, pressing wet kisses along your jugular. When you feel long hair tickling your shoulder, you guess that it must be Bucky. He catches your skin between his teeth in a delicate grip, perhaps hinting at what he’ll be doing later.

Hands are roaming over your body, palming your breasts, slipping underneath the hem of your blouse, spreading your thighs open. Your brain is overwhelmed by the multitude of sensations, drowning in a flood of rapturous pleasure. Unadulterated  _want_ simmers low in your gut, making your skin tingle with need. The sound of your harsh panting fills the air, interspersed with the occasional moan.

When Nat moves away, another pair of lips take her place. Someone is kissing down your neck, flicking their tongue over your collarbone. Hands are sliding up your skirt, tracing patterns on the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. Those fingers are teasingly close to your burning core and you moan in frustration, needing someone to touch you  _there_. Your clothes seem to melt off your body and somehow, you end up completely naked, surrounded by four gorgeous, equally naked lovers.

Lips close around your stiff nipple, making you cry out in surprise. You arch your back, white-hot bolts of pleasure dancing up and down your spine. Someone else’s lips close around your other nipple and you mewl, squirming restlessly as teeth and tongues tease you mercilessly. Your fingers are fisted in the sheets above your head in an attempt to anchor yourself against the onslaught of pleasure.

Your right nipple is released from its sweet torture, and a pair of lips starts trailing kisses down your torso. At the same time, someone is biting along your left thigh, working their way up from your knee. Your breathing hitches as they inch closer and closer to your centre of need. You realise that you’re moaning, loud and wanton and shameless, babbling and begging incoherently.

Fingers trace your wetness and you gasp, your eyes flying open. A shock of red head is nestled between your splayed legs. As if sensing your eyes on her, Natasha flicks her eyes up to look at you, a mischievous fire burning in her pupils. Slowly, deliberately, she bends down, her pointed tongue darting to lap at your entrance. You groan, your head lolling to the side.

Bucky is hunched over your torso, lips working relentlessly at your left nipple. You tangle your fingers through his hair and scratch your nails over his scalp, which makes him moan in response. The vibrations reverberate over your skin.

Twisting your head to the right gives you the pleasure of watching Sam and Steve being sweet on each other. Steve’s enormous hand is wrapped around both of their cocks, jerking them off in tandem. Sam’s fingers are carded through Steve’s hair, holding his head in place as Sam kisses him passionately. You watch as Steve flicks his thumb over the head of Sam’s cock, making Sam twist away with a groan. He catches you watching them and gives you a wink.

You jolt in shock when a wet tongue bumps against your clit. Nat flicks her tongue across it again, making you whine helplessly. Beside you, you see Steve bending to whisper something into Sam’s ear. Sam nods, a grin spreading over his lips.

They crawl over to you, Sam scooting down the bed until he’s sat by your waist, Steve kneeling beside your head. His hard cock bobs in front of your face, the tip glistening with pre-come.

“You want it, sweetheart?” he asks, voice gravelly. You nod, opening your mouth in invitation.

He wraps a hand around the base of his cock and traces the tip over your lips, letting you have a taste. You moan as his flavour – musky and heady and inexplicably  _other_ – touches your tongue. You relax your jaw and open your mouth further, allowing Steve to feed you the head of his cock. His girth stretches you open, causing saliva to drool out of the corners of mouth. Steve tastes heavenly, like nothing you’ve ever experienced before.

Without warning, Bucky pulls his lips away from your nipple, replacing them with his cool metal hand. You scream when he pinches your poor, abused nipple between his thumb and forefinger, the sudden change of temperature setting off little explosions of pleasure in your groin. You squirm and writhe, trying to get away, but multiple hands are pinning you in place, stopping you from escaping.

Steve pulls his cock out of your mouth, giving you a chance to breathe. At the same time, Natasha moans between your legs, the vibrations resonating through your core. You lift your head up to see that Sam is kneeling behind hear, one hand gripping her waist as his other hand – presumably – guides himself into her body. He starts thrusting, each movement slow, but powerful enough to shove Nat’s face into your pussy.

Once his rhythm has been established, Sam runs his hands over Natasha’s back. The contrast of his dark skin against hers is breathtakingly beautiful.

You turn your head to the side and flick your tongue over the underside of Steve’s cock, teasing the prominent vein there. He tips his head back and groans, low and long. Bucky inches closer, his hair tickling the hollow of your throat as he leans forward to take the tip of Steve’s cock between his lips. Steve’s hips jerk forward in surprise.

“ _Fuck_ —yes, that’s good,” he grunts.

A shout is punched out of your lungs when Natasha slips two fingers into your entrance. You’re so wet that they slip in with no resistance. She curls them upwards and starts pumping them in and out of your hole, scissoring them apart whenever they’re pressed inside you to stretch you open. You thrash your head from side to side, pressure starting to accumulate in your groin, making your toes curl.

Steve guides his dick back into your mouth and you moan around it, doing your best to flick your head around the sensitive ridge. There are tears streaming from your eyes and rolling down your temples, into your hair.

“Oh, look at you, sweetheart,” Bucky croons, trailing butterfly kisses down your cheek. “Taking Steve’s cock so well, look’it you.”

You moan helplessly.

“He loves it,” Bucky breathes, pressing a kiss to your throat. “You’re doin’ so well, baby, so good for us.”

Steve pulls his cock out of your mouth with a lewd pop. A trail of spit connects your bottom lip to the tip of his dick. You heave a shaky breath, tightening your grip in the sheets as the pleasure skyrockets, soaring to new levels.

“Fuck!” you cry, twisting your head to the side, pressing your nose into Bucky’s neck. Your hips are bucking into Nat’s face of their own volition, chasing your climax. Nat has three fingers inside you now, and your clit is trapped between her lips. She’s thrashing her tongue across the bundle of nerves, intent on wringing your orgasm out of you.

“M’gonna come, m’gonna come,  _fuck_ —oh— _shit_ , fff-uck, don’t stop,” you babble breathlessly, “P-please don’t stop— _ohhh_!”

An explosion of pleasure ripples through your system, originating at your groin and radiating outwards. Your back arches at an unnatural angle, every muscle in your body going taut. Your mouth falls open on a silent scream. You’re lightheaded, unable to catch a breath.

As you come down from your high, you’re aware of gentle hands petting your sweaty skin, gradually easing you back into reality. Your muscles have turned to mush; you don’t think you can lift even a single finger.

Bucky is nuzzling your cheek, rubbing his lips over the hinge of your jaw.

“Did so good for us, sweetheart, so good,” he’s whispering. “D’you think you can go again, baby? Can you take me? Can you take Stevie?”

“Muh,” you respond, your brain incapable of a more intelligent answer. You squeeze your eyes shut and breathe deeply, trying to calm your racing heart.

“Uh-huh,” you say finally, your voice raspy. “Go again, uh-huh, c’mon.”

Someone laughs softly. The bed dips and shifts as people swap positions. Bucky’s kisses move from your cheek, to your jaw, to your neck. You hum weakly, twisting your head to the side and baring your throat to him in a silent invitation. He growls appreciatively as his tongue traces your pulse point.

Warm hands slide over your waist and down your thighs. You hear the sound of a condom wrapper being torn open. Through bleary eyes, you watch as Steve rolls the rubber onto his hard length. Your legs are spread open in a debauched manner, exposing your most intimate areas to Steve’s lust-darkened gaze. You’re loose and pliant from your earlier orgasm, so it takes no effort on Steve’s part to hoist your legs over his thighs, allowing him to scoot closer. He encourages you to wrap your calves around your waist, positioning you at the right angle.

Natasha is kneeling on your right, beside your hip. Now, she leans forward, taking hold of Steve’s cock and guiding it towards you entrance. He turns towards her, threads his fingers through her scarlet hair and crushes their lips together in a sinfully passionate kiss. When you feel the blunt pressure of Steve’s cockhead pressing against your hole, you exhale shakily. Steve breaks the kiss and meets your gaze.

“Okay?” he asks, as he grasps the base of his cock.

“I want it,” you breathe.

He presses forward, his cock slipping into your slick entrance. You gasp as his shaft pierces you, splitting you open like no one else has. Natasha’s palm has fallen to your thigh, rubbing soothing circles into your skin. Steve goes slow, but never stops, pressing himself forward until his groin is flush with yours. It all happens in one continuous, powerful thrust; from the moment the head of his cock breaches your hole, until Steve bottoms out completely. You go from being empty to being stuffed so indescribably  _full_. You’re gasping for breath, fingers scrabbling for purchase in the sheets. His cock is buried deep in your pussy and  _fuck_  does it feel good.

It hurts, a little. You’re panting harshly as you try to acclimatise to the sensation. You can feel your body stretching to accommodate his length, your walls physically relaxing and stretching around him. In this moment, the only sounds that fill the air is your harsh breathing and Steve’s quick pants. Your knees are hugging his waist; the point of contact allows you to feel the tension thrumming through his body. He’s wound up tighter than a coiled spring.

Bucky continues to kiss and nibble on your neck, giving you a counterpoint to balance the overload of sensations between your legs. Sam is on the other side of your head, idly palming his cock. He’s not touching you, focused instead on watching this wondrous spectacle between you and Steve unfold.

You use the heel of your foot to nudge Steve’s ass.

“M’good,” you tell him, voice strained. “You can move now.”

Steve nods and leans forward. He plants his hands on the bed, bracing them on either side of your waist. He pulls out halfway, before sliding his hips forward again. You suck in a breath as pleasure dances down your legs. Steve does it again, faster this time, barely giving you a moment’s reprieve. His movements are slow but powerful, calculated and precise. You’re mesmerised by the ripple of his muscles, how they tense and flex with each thrust. His skin is covered in a sheen of sweat that makes him glow in the dim light.

Bucky scrapes his teeth over the side of your neck, biting down insistently, without breaking the skin. You moan quietly, tipping your head even further to the side.

“You smell so good, sweetheart,” Bucky whispers, as his tongue laves over the place he’d just bitten. “You ready for this?”

“Do it,” you say breathlessly.

You close your eyes, mentally preparing yourself for an explosion of pain. Instead, Bucky’s sharp teeth go through your neck like a knife slicing through butter. There’s a momentary pinch, but it’s no worse than getting an injection at the doctor’s. A carnal, satisfied moan rumbles out of Bucky’s throat as your blood starts trickling into his mouth. He closes his lips over your vein and starts to suck in earnest. A contented haze settles over you; each pull of Bucky’s lips sends a wave of pleasure rushing to your groin. Somehow, he and Steve are working in perfect harmony, Bucky’s lips moving in time with Steve’s thrusts.

When you open your eyes, you see Sam knee-walking over to you, his cock leaking pre-come everywhere. Instinctively, you open your mouth, your saliva glands revving up in anticipation. Sam smiles as he takes himself in hand and guides his dick between your lips. He’s smaller than Steve, but not small by any means; your jaw is still stretched obscenely wide to take him in.

Steve’s hips have sped up now, and the harsh slap of skin hitting skin fills the air. He’s muttering praises and curses under his breath in equal measure as his cock ploughs into you, balls hitting your ass over and over again. You’re drifting on cloud nine, awash with pleasurable sensations from all sides. Steve’s cock is sheer perfection, stretching you out and rubbing at all your good spots. You can feel your second orgasm fast approaching.

On your left, Bucky is still suckling at your neck, releasing contented mewls of pleasure every now and then. His hips are working restlessly at your side, rutting his cock against you, desperate for friction on his hot, throbbing flesh. You can feel his pre-come smearing over your hip. A hand trails over your belly and curls around Bucky’s cock, giving him a tight space to thrust into. Against your neck, Bucky moans in gratitude.

The fact that you’re being overloaded with pleasure from Bucky and Steve makes it rather difficult for you to give Sam much attention. You curl your right hand over his shaft and work your fist over him using fast strokes. At the same time, you flick your tongue over the head of his dick, teasing the sensitive ridge. He throws his head back and grunts with pleasure.

“Fuck,” Steve hisses, “Holy –  _ohh_ , fuck, it’s—Nat, gimme a hand, please?”

Clever fingers start to rub concentric circles over your clit, adding yet another layer of pleasure to the mix. You’re soaring, your climax rushing towards you at full force. You can feel the walls of your vagina rippling around Steve’s cock as it plunges in and out of your hole at a punishing pace. Bucky’s lips are still at your neck, his hips rutting against your side at a frantic pace. Above you, Sam’s breathing has gotten harsher as he thrusts desperately into the tight channel created by your hand.

“C’mon, sweetheart, Y/N,” Steve groans, snapping his hips forward. “You gotta –  _fuck_ , please, baby – you gotta come for me, c’mon, I know you’re there – know you’re so close, c’mon, just let go, yeah?”

Maybe it’s Steve’s voice, tinged with manic desperation that tips you over the edge. Maybe it’s Bucky’s teeth digging a little harder into your neck that does the trick. Maybe it’s Nat flicking her fingers over your clit in a certain way.

Regardless, your orgasm washes over you like a tsunami, wave after wave of pleasure slamming against you relentlessly. It’s like an out-of-body experience; your brain shorts out, unable to process the intensity and magnitude of the sensations coursing through your system.

You register everyone else reaching their own climax. Bucky is the first to let go after you tip over, his warmth spurting sticky and wet over your belly. Then it’s Steve, his hips faltering in their rhythm as he empties himself into the condom with a feral growl. Steve grinds his pelvis into yours, his pubic hairs rubbing against your clit, which heightens your own orgasm. Sam takes his cock in hand and jerks his fist over the head at a rapid pace. He comes with a grunt, ribbons of white shooting out of his cock and painting your breasts.

It’s quite the experience.

At some point, you must’ve blacked out, because the next thing you’re aware of is a damp washcloth being swiped over your body. There are soft voices in the background, but you’re too tired to properly focus on what they’re saying. You’re incredibly sleepy, your muscles ache from exertion and there’s a tenderness between your legs that’ll probably stick around for a while. A haze of pleasure lingers around you in a warm bubble, making everything good and perfect.

As you drift in and out of consciousness, you pick up snippets of conversation.

“—wasn’t normal,” Sam is saying, “She’s only a human, she shouldn’t be—,”

“She’s got fae blood in her, though,” Bucky says.

“That doesn’t explain all that,” Sam protests, “You three should’ve  _drained_ her, and yet—,”

“She’s okay,” Nat says quietly.

A pause, then. “Maybe she’s not what we think she is,” Steve says ominously.

Sleep pulls you under before you can ponder the meaning of his words.

**Author's Note:**

> [rebloggable version](https://a-splash-of-stucky.tumblr.com/post/175701314960/the-lions-den/)


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